


Lost Choices

by vega_voices



Series: Sleeps with Butterflies [9]
Category: CSI, CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-29 18:18:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/690018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vega_voices/pseuds/vega_voices
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>She was in the hospital, screaming while her body protested labor and even while her body bled from the damage inflicted on it and the doctors raced to stitch her up, she’d begged futilely for a chance to see her child just once. Just once.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost Choices

**Title:** Lost Choices  
 **Series:** [Sleeps with Butterflies](http://vega-voices.livejournal.com/79902.html)  
 **Author:** vegawriters  
 **Fandom:** CSI  
 **Pairing:** Grissom/Sara  
 **Timeframe:** Season 6.  
 **Rating:** Mature  
 **A/N:** This is part of the [Sleeps With Butterflies](http://vega-voices.livejournal.com/79902.html) series and holds all of the warnings associated with this storyline.  
 **Disclaimer:** CSI is owned by CBS, et al. I have no say in any of it. I do not make any money off of the stories in this series. Josh, Angela, and Elise Mair are my creations, as is Derrick Flemming.

 **Summary:** _She was in the hospital, screaming while her body protested labor and even while her body bled from the damage inflicted on it and the doctors raced to stitch her up, she’d begged futilely for a chance to see her child just once. Just once._

_Drag him out your window_  
Dragging out your dead  
Singing I miss you  
Snakes and ladders  
Flip the lid  
-Radiohead: Wolf At the Door 

For her, he’d tried Radiohead. Grissom didn’t expect to turn to them on his own in the future, but the music didn’t grate on his nerves like he’d expected and the lyrics were surprisingly classical. The concepts of personal struggle within the poetics of modern rock coming to a definition in songs such as Stop Whispering were worthy of attention and Sara’s intelligence. He wasn’t a pure Opera snob by any means, but the older he got the more he did enjoy the strains of Beethoven and Bizet even to the crash and burn of his beloved classic rock. Izzy Delancy had been shelved more often than not lately.

On the stove, the soup bubbled while Sara’s favorite playlist exuded her preferred brand of literary poetry from the iPod speakers. Before her shower, she’d started the coffee and he poured himself a cup while waiting for her to emerge. The water had stopped streaming through the pipes a few minutes ago and he could hear her puttering around in his bedroom. It was tempting to sneak in and tease her back between the sheets, but she hadn’t been feeling all that well lately. There was a cold going around the lab and it sounded like it had settled into her lungs, even though she wasn’t complaining. Hence, the soup. So he leaned against the counter, his bare feet cool against the tiles of the floor, and stared at the picture of the two of them on the fridge.

“Penny for those thoughts of yours,” her voice interrupted his musing and he glanced over. She was in tight jeans and a blue long sleeve t-shirt. Her feet were bare. Around her neck was the leather cord necklace with a jade pendant that she’d picked up at the flea market a couple of weeks ago. Her wet hair dripped onto her shoulders.

“I’m thinking that Radiohead doesn’t suck.”

She laughed and walked the rest of the way into the kitchen. He poured her a cup of coffee. “I like it when I can win at least one cultural argument.”

“Oh, you win more than you realize.”

She gave him that smirk he thought should be patented and leaned in for a kiss. “That’s good to know,” she said after pulling back. “The soup smells fantastic.” She coughed a bit and rolled her eyes at herself.

“Thank you.” Another kiss and then he walked to the table, his mind already in the lab and the paperwork he had to finish. Sara shifted her weight against the counter and when he looked over his shoulder, she’d selected the science and technology section of the paper and was flipping through the pages. She was standing on one foot, the other tucked up behind her leg, working her lip between her teeth. This was her usual time for a cigarette, he knew, but she’d been trying to stay clean and as far as he knew, she now only smoked when she’d been up for three days straight on a case. Still, the cravings had been a bitch for her.

“Stop looking at me, Gil.” She cracked a smile without looking up at him. Before he could respond, her phone sounded, a reminder that she was backing up swing. “Fuck.” She flipped the phone and read the text. “419 just off the strip.” She paused as she refolded the paper before walking over to the table, draping herself over his back. “I’ll see you at the lab.”

“Yes. Be careful out there.”

“I will.” She kissed his cheek and hurried over to the door. In silence, she pulled on her boots and shrugged into a jacket. As she walked out the door, she blew him a kiss and then there was silence and Grissom was left alone with soup, the rest of his coffee, and Radiohead’s commentary on modern life.

***

  
“What do you have for me, Sofia?” Sara ducked under the tape and walked with the detective to where the body of a young woman had fallen. A glance told her a story of obvious gunshot wounds; probably a drive by. She’d been caught by surprise. The day shift coroner’s assistant, Charlie, was making her initial assessments.

“White female, apparent GSWs.” Charlie looked up while Sara knelt next to her. “She’s young.”

Sofia pointed across the street at one of the weekly crash pad trash motels. “Chances are she’s a bystander more than anything else. That place over there is a known drug hotspot and if there was a shootout, she could have been caught in the crossfire.”

“Poor kid,” Sara sighed and took a couple of quick close-up shots. “Books a trip online, doesn’t do her research or she can’t afford anything better than this neighborhood. Doesn’t think it’ll matter because she’ll spend her whole time on the Strip anyway …” she sighed. “It’s amazing how blinding the lights can be.” She looked at Charlie, “Are you ready to roll her?”

“Yeah,” the woman nodded and reached over, moving the body carefully. Sara snapped shots the whole time but stopped when she finally caught a good glimpse of the woman’s face. Somewhere, she registered Charlie’s “um wow” but it didn’t really process.

It was like looking in a mirror. High cheekbones, dark curly hair, pale skin, identical eye shape. Her body was long and thin, her fingers slightly long proportional to the hands. This wasn’t like that case a couple of years ago, where she’d had that strange, uncanny resemblance to the victim that everyone felt the urge to point out to her. The case where she’d realized exactly what was happening with Gil and had to find a way to come to terms with his fear. No, this was a matter of DNA.

Suddenly, Sara understood the phrase, “A mother knows.” This … was her daughter.

A hand reached out to touch the girl’s cheek but instinct forced her back. The body hadn’t been cleared yet. The body. The body of the little girl she’d never been allowed to hold. The child whom she’d been forced to carry to term. “Does she have ID, Charlie?”

Through her fog, Sara watched the coroner reach into a pocket and pull out a wallet. “Elise Mair. Almost twenty years old. From Modesto.”

Sara saw Sofia reach for the wallet. “Fifty bucks in cash,” she said, “couple of credit cards – I’m going to bet that Josh Mair is her father- there’s a VISA in here with his name on it. Some photos. An insurance card.” She stopped and unfolded a piece of paper. “Um, Sara?”

“Yeah?”

Sofia held out the paper. Sara took it. On it, in handwriting similar to her own, were just a few words. _Sara Sidle. Criminalist. Las Vegas Police Department. Thirty-five._ Bile rose in her throat and Sara turned away for a second, feeling their eyes on her but she needed to take a moment, to get a grip on her professionalism. She took a few deep breaths, somehow managing to keep the bile from rising in her throat, but it didn’t matter. For the first time in years, the flashback overwhelmed her. She was back on that bed, unable to fight off the burly teenager who told her he’d sell her to his buddies if she said anything. She was in the shelter, feeling the baby move. She was in the hospital, screaming while her body protested labor and even while her body bled from the damage inflicted on it and the doctors raced to stitch her up, she’d begged futilely for a chance to see her child just once. Just once.

Now, in a sick and twisted version of the genie fairytale, her wish had come true.

They’d named her Elise.

“Sara?” Sofia was suddenly so close behind her and Sara had to take a few steps away to regain her footing. But she was still there, in that bedroom, and all she could muster was a shake of the head. If she made a sound, she’d be tied forever to that bed. The small part of her brain that was working said she needed to call Gil, to pass off the case. She couldn’t work this. Legally or emotionally. Her daughter had come looking for her and been killed.

Her daughter.

Elise.

“I’m going to call backup,” she was somehow able to mutter. “Clearly I shouldn’t be working this.” She pushed the piece of paper back into Sofia’s hands and fled beyond the yellow tape, back to the safety of her Denali. Shaking fingers hit Gil’s number and when he answered on the first ring, her brain again stopped working.

He knew the basics. He knew what happened. He knew why sometimes she woke up screaming. But now the reality of the girl she’d been was going to be shoved in his face and she wasn’t ready for him or the world to know every last secret. When she tried to talk, her lungs froze. Her daughter. Her daughter. She didn’t know how long she listened to him call her name, asking if she was okay. But she couldn’t respond.

“You need to come process the scene, Gil,” she managed to choke out. “Conflict of interest.” She snapped the phone shut and leaned against the vehicle, waiting. Staring out the windshield at the body of the girl she’d never had the chance to know.

***

  
He found her frozen in place, staring with blank eyes into the nothingness beyond the hood of the Denali. The coroner was clearly ready to go, but Sara hadn’t even begun to process the scene. “Honey?” He asked, his voice quiet and even, “What’s going on?”

When she looked at him, her eyes were dull and far away. He recognized the look, the obvious signs of a flashback, but there was no evidence as to what had triggered the event. Instead of responding, she just handed him her camera. “Sofia will fill you in.” It was then he saw the dried tears on her cheeks. Did she even realize she’d been crying? “I’m going home.” She started the truck and drove off and he was torn between following her because she was clearly in no shape to drive, or checking on the case.

Work first.

He crossed the lot to Sofia and ducked under the tape, “What happened here?”

“You might want to take a good look at the body, Grissom.” There was something odd about Sofia’s tone. What had happened? The body was clearly too young to be Sara’s mother, so that wasn’t the issue. And, logically, finding the dead body of her mother wouldn’t cause the kind of episode he’d just witnessed in his lover. “Elise Mair. There’s a pretty uncanny resemblance to Sara. Could be a sister or something, judging from the way she reacted.” He could hear Sofia reaching, wondering what was going on. Of everyone, Grissom would be the one to know.

“Sara doesn’t have a sister,” he responded instantly, but whatever he was going to say next died on his lips. Sofia was right. They could be sisters. Same bone structure. Elise’s hair was a shade lighter, with blonde rather than red highlights. Her skin tone was more on the olive side, though that could have been the lighting in the parking lot. No, he knew who this was, even without running the DNA test that would be coming. “It’s her daughter, Detective,” Grissom said quietly. And inwardly, he broke, because this was the last thing Sara wanted anyone to know about. But now the secret would be revealed. Anyone who worked the case would be able to see the resemblance and see the evidence. They’d know what happened, what she’d been through. Sara’s worst fear, her secrets laid bare before the people in her life, was about to be realized.

“I’m going to have to talk to her.” He heard the regret and confusion in Sofia’s voice.

“Let’s get this processed first. She’ll be at home.” He paused. “I’m going to go with you for this one.”

Sofia nodded. Grissom turned to work. Elise deserved the best and he was going to make sure she got it. She’d never asked to come into the world and Sara deserved to know what happened. Maybe it would finally give her the closure she’d never received.

“Are you thinking drive by?” He looked at the detective.

“Yeah. And she was an unfortunate victim.”

“Jeans and a t-shirt. Might be headed to the casinos but probably not to a show.”

Sofia handed over a piece of paper and Grissom realized what had set Sara off. The physical resemblance was uncanny but could have been explained away with DNA. This proof that the girl was searching for her would have been devastating. “She had this in her pocket and had called for a cab. She might have been on her way to PD.”

“She was looking for Sara,” Grissom sighed. “Why was she out here and not inside waiting in her room?”

“Probably worried she’d miss it,” Sofia responded. “Happens all the time. And then these guys get caught in the crossfire.”

Charlie was wrapping Elise for transport and Grissom walked the scene, looking for bullets. Three had gone through. One was still in the body. No purse, but there was a canvass messenger bag not too far from the body. Like mother like daughter. She even carried ID and money in the same kind of thin wallet as Sara, tucked in her pocket so she wouldn’t have to search for it. Her necklace had fallen off in the shooting; a green stone on a silver chain. So similar to the one Sara was wearing today. In her bag were three books, a notebook, and a journal.

First he had to go confront Sara’s broken heart.

***

  
Sara was still crying when she opened the door to her apartment, but her eyes were clear. She was still in her jeans and t-shirt, but her feet were bare and her hair was up in a ponytail and he could detect the slightly stale scent of her preferred cigarettes lingering around her. Even with Sofia shifting nervously in the hallway behind him, it still took everything in Grissom’s power to now pull Sara into his arms. Instead, he just stared at her and she stared back, and as they entered, he squeezed her arm lovingly.

“We need to just ask a few questions, Sara.” Sofia kept her voice even.

“I didn’t know her,” Sara said, anticipating the first question. She wiped fresh tears from her eyes and then shoved her hands into her pockets. Grissom found himself wishing she’d just sit down. “I … I wanted to, but I was fourteen when she was born. It was a closed adoption.” A pause so silent that the ticking of the clock in the bedroom could be heard. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“Fourteen?” Sofia stared at her. Sara shrugged.

“I was raped and my guardians wouldn’t let me have an abortion. The state wouldn’t pay for it.” She sniffed. “Couldn’t have afforded it even if I’d been able to somehow get away from my social worker.” She took a shaky breath and finally collapsed onto her couch. Grissom moved across the room to sit with her. Sara clung to his hand and Grissom wondered if she even realized she was doing it. He also realized he didn’t care what Sofia thought about this whole situation. Sara started talking again, her voice soft and far away. What had it been like for her, alone in that hospital room, with only an overworked social worker offering comfort? “There were complications with the birth. I bled a lot and they had to do work and all my pleas to hold her were ignored. I never got to actually even see her. She was just taken off to her parents.”

“Did you know she was looking for you? Had you had any contact? Any messages from strangers?” Suddenly Grissom was glad it was Sofia investigating and not anyone else. Sofia would keep things quiet, and as a woman, would hopefully be more sympathetic to the circumstance.

Sara shook her head. “No. I … I don’t have a Facebook account or anything like that, so I don’t see her being able to track me through social media. I didn’t have any emails from accounts I didn’t recognize or strange phone calls. But every foster kid I grew up with … when they ended up wanting to track people down, we had ways to do it.” She paused and when she spoke again, her voice was very far away. “When I went looking for my brother, he had no idea until I showed up on his doorstep. If she wanted to keep it a secret, she’d have been able to. Easily.”

Grissom spoke, trying to reassure her. Of what he wasn’t sure. “She was probably waiting on confirmation that it was you.”

Sara bit her lip and tears started again. Grissom wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close, letting her cry. Sofia waited. “We’ll track her family down,” Grissom said, giving a look to Sofia. There wasn’t much more she could give them and the emotional fallout from the ripping open of scars she’d been ignoring most of her life was just too much right now. “Thank you, Sara.”

Sofia nodded, taking the hint. “If we have more questions, we’ll come to you, okay?” Again she nodded. Grissom made eye contact with Sofia, who stepped out into the hall. When they were alone, Grissom stood and took her hand.

“Come on, you should go back to bed.”

“Gil …”

“I’ll find who did this, Sara.” He stroked her hair back. “You’ve got the night off, okay. Just sleep.”

She nodded. Her lack of an argument told him everything he needed to know about her mental state. He could only imagine what she was feeling, how she was beating herself up. She’d always maintained that giving her daughter up had been the best thing for everyone involved because it meant she’d get to live a healthy, happier life that Sara as a teenage foster mother just couldn’t provide. Sara had been able to go on to college and graduate school and was successful and hadn’t been tied down to caring for a child. But now, watching her pull the afghan from the end of the couch over her shoulders and seeing twenty years of unshed tears stream from her eyes, he wondered if it really had been the best choice after all.

But there was still a case to solve and if he could do anything, he could find out who killed Sara’s child. He could at least do that for her. So he bent over, kissed her cheek, and headed out to join Sofia.

***

  
“Is it true?”

Grissom stared at his team. Catherine had spoken, which made sense. She was the mother; the one who saved Lindsay’s Band-Aids and kept them in the freezer along with a lock of her hair and a vial of her blood. But around the room, the group of people all stared back at him, horror written on their faces. Nick stared at him, mouth open. Warrick’s lips were pressed into a thin line, as if he’d suspected something. Greg was clutching the file so hard the edges were bending. “We’re going to wait until the DNA confirms the relation, but we also have evidence that Elise Mair was looking for Sara. There was a note in her wallet with information about LVPD.”

“She’s twenty?” Greg flipped open the file and Grissom was glad to move the conversation forward. “That means Sara was only …”

“Fourteen.” Grissom filled in. They’d all done the math so he might as well say it. “It’s in the notes from the statement she gave to Sofia.” He took a breath, “Look, I’ve sent Sara home for the night and when she comes in tomorrow, she’ll be assigned other cases. But despite the personal aspects of this case, we still have a job to do. The bullets are in ballistics, the DNA is with Wendy, and Doc Robbins is doing the post. Sofia has contacted her family in Modesto and they’re coming down.” He paused. “Greg, you and Nick head back out to the scene. Sofia thinks it was a drive by targeting the motel across the street. Check it out, see if there’s evidence of a gun battle. Catherine, you take the family when they get here. Warrick, you’ve got all the evidence that still needs to be processed.”

“What about you?” Catherine frowned a bit.

“Elise kept very detailed notes, including a journal,” he said. “I’m going to go through them and try to see what I can learn.” Catherine nodded and the team filed out but Greg hung behind. “What is it, Greg?”

“Was there an investigation? Back in California? About Sara I mean? Was the guy who did it to her caught?”

Grissom stopped and shook his head. “As far as I know she never pressed charges. She was too scared.”

They stared at each other in silent acknowledgement. He knew Greg was in love with Sara and he knew, as a man also in love with her, how tempting it was to flee and want to put his arms around her. Greg nodded, understanding. It was a secret no more. Sofia’s notes had been thorough. But he wasn’t going to go into graphic detail.

***

  
_I googled her. She’s the last one on my list, the last one who makes sense. She’s a criminalist in Vegas but she also worked in San Francisco. She graduated from her high school at sixteen and at seventeen was at Harvard and by twenty-one working on her Masters at Berkeley. She’s been published in all these different forensics journals too. Doesn’t exactly seem like the kind of woman who would get pregnant as a teenager. I wish my parents knew more about her. I think I’d have given up on it though if the photo that was in the journal I got my hands on didn’t look so much like me. I just want to know why. Clearly she had all this talent, all these brains, so how is it that she got pregnant? Why did she give me up? What happened?_

_Does she ever think about me?_

Grissom turned the page, wishing he could tell Elise that yes, Sara did think about her. Every day. Elise’s notes detailed each failed search, and the successful one with Sara. She noted timeframes and ages and whether or not the women in question had been in foster care. But despite how impressed he was at how Elise had inherited her mother’s work ethic, what he found himself seeking out were the emotional moments in the journals, the hopes that this girl could find her birth mother.

_Vegas is different than it looks on TV. The strip seems smaller. The people are kind of blank – like they don’t want to connect to anything. It’s like Pleasure Island but for adults. Yesterday when I got here, there was all this news about a lawyer who had been killed at her son’s wedding. Sara … she was caught on camera processing some piece of evidence. If I could have paused the TV forever I would have. Seeing her in action like that … I just know that she’s my mother. I just know._

_How is she going to react seeing me? Is she even going to care?_

His heart broke a little. Sara would have loved nothing more than to meet her daughter, to get to know this young woman. She would have wanted to know that the adoptive parents were good people, that Elise was happy and healthy. She’d have wanted to know that Elise was studying gender studies at Berkeley and that she loved to dance. He hoped when this was all said and done and the journals released from evidence that the family would allow them to go to Sara. She deserved something from this.

His phone beeped and he glanced down. He was in to hour ten of the shift but he wasn’t going home until he talked to the family. He wasn’t going to miss the first chance at connection. The text was from Sofia; the family was here. He sealed the journals back in the evidence bag and walked on cautious feet to the conference area. A man and a woman sat there, both crying, both clearly confused with the situation. Sofia hadn’t arrived and so Grissom walked in, trying to maintain some sense of professionalism.

“Mr. and Mrs. Mair?”

The man nodded and held out his hand. “Yes. I’m Josh. This is Angela.”

“I’m Gil Grissom. I’m the lead criminalist on Elise’s case.”

“She shouldn’t have a case!” the woman sobbed. “We begged her not to come.”

“Did …” Josh took a deep breath. “Did she find her? Her birth mother?”

Grissom paused, thinking of Sara’s reaction, wondering if he should tell them. “We believe so, but we are waiting on the DNA results to confirm,” he said quietly. “We have evidence that she had a lead, but Elise was killed before making contact.”

“How do you know?” Angela was sobbing again. “What if this woman did it to cover something up?”

“We believe Elise was an unfortunate bystander in a gun related crime.” Gil took a breath, finding himself staring into the eyes of this woman who, he knew, considered herself Elise’s mother. But all he saw were blue eyes and blonde hair and a rosy skin tone rather than Elise and Sara’s more tan coloring. “The woman whom Elise believed was her birth mother is named Sara Sidle. She’s a criminalist with the Las Vegas PD and she has an alibi for the time of the incident.”

“You mean she’s here?!” Angela Mair’s voice was suddenly hard, “Here right now? In this building?”

“No.” Gil shook his head. “She isn’t working tonight.” He wondered if Sara had cried herself back to sleep or if she was still staring into space, reliving the seven and a half months of hell that had been her fourteenth year.

“Does she know?” Again, Angela’s voice was hard.

“The evidence we found on Elise led us to Sara.” It wasn’t a complete lie. “So yes, she’s been made aware of the situation.”

This time it was Josh who spoke and the question surprised him. “Could we meet her, Mr. Grissom?”

Grissom stared at the man, unsure of what to say. “I can ask her,” he finally replied. Sofia walked in and introductions were done again. Glad for the break, Grissom let Sofia lead the next set of questions. They were routine, all about Elise’s whereabouts and if they’d known she was searching for her mother.

“When did you tell her she was adopted?” Sofia asked, a patient, well trained tone in her voice.

“Last year,” Angela said, staring at her hands. “She was starting to suspect she wasn’t like her siblings. We’d always …”

“We love our daughter,” Josh broke in.

“But?” Sofia prompted.

“There was always a distance with her,” Angela said. “Even as a baby, she’d crawl up to us but never want to be held for too long. She’d sit next to us, not with us. We chalked it up to personality. Every baby is different.”

“About a year ago, Elise just out asked if she’d been adopted. We couldn’t lie.” Josh spoke.

“Did you tell her about Sara?”

“We didn’t know anything about her birth mother. It was a closed adoption. All we knew was that the mother was a teenager.”

“She was fourteen,” Grissom found himself saying. “She’d been raped by her foster brother and the state wouldn’t allow her to get an abortion.”

The couple stared at him, horror on both of their faces. “Oh my god,” Angela said. “She …”

“If her birth mother is indeed Sara,” he continued, “she had no choice in the matter to give up Elise.”

Angela took a shaky breath. Part of Grissom regretted revealing the information, but they had as much a right to know as Elise. They had a right to know where their daughter came from.

“Do you know how she tracked her history?” Sofia asked, diverting the conversation back to the present.

Josh shook his head. “It wasn’t until she asked for money to go to Vegas that we even realized what she was doing. She did the legwork herself.” He sighed. “I guess detective work runs in her bloodline.”

“How did you feel about her going?”

“I was against it,” Angela said. “She’s my daughter, not this woman’s. I don’t care about biology. I don’t care about circumstance. I raised her.”

“I gave her the money,” Josh said. “I agree with Angela, but Elise was going to go. With or without our financial support. I wanted to make sure she could be safe.” He choked out the word. “Safe. And then …”

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Sofia said. “And I promise you, we’re doing our best to find who did this.”

“She was studying at Berkeley,” said Angela. “Wanted to be a professor.”

“Sara went to Berkeley,” Grissom replied, knowing he was revealing too much but there was a part of him that wanted to make sure these people understood that Sara was a real person. She wasn’t some kid who hadn’t been able to keep it together. He didn’t go beyond that. Elise had been studying English Theory. Sara was a physicist. The similarities stopped at the admissions office.

“Well,” Josh took a deep breath, “I guess some things might be genetic after all.” Grissom realized he was looking at Sofia and not him and he couldn’t help but wonder if these two had already figured out how much he cared about Sara. “Can we see Elise?”

“I’ll have to check with the morgue,” Sofia answered.

“We aren’t leaving town without her, “Angela spoke up. “So we’re here as long as we have to be.”

“We’ll let you know as soon as she’s ready,” Grissom said evenly before standing up and letting Sofia handle the arrangements for the couple. He had work to do. This couple deserved the same closure as Sara.

***

She could feel everyone looking at her as she walked through the hallways. What did they know? What rumors were circulating? Who knew what? Who knew the truth? For the first time, she really understood the pain of the parents who only demanded answers. All she could do was wait.

The door to Grissom’s office was open and she hovered in the door, unsure of her role right now other than the fact that she wouldn’t be allowed anywhere near the evidence. He looked up and waved her in and when she closed the door behind her, he didn’t object. “What do you know?” She asked before sinking into the chair by his desk. He looked exhausted; he was now into his third shift and suddenly, logic took over. She appreciated that he wouldn’t want to sleep until this was solved, but she wanted him refreshed and able to focus. He had to go home, at least for a few hours. Maybe she’d take another day, go home with him, curl up under the covers and let him hold her.

He shrugged and closed the case file in front of him. “She was searching for her birth mother, Sara. Wanted to know what happened.”

“And idea of how she tracked me?”

“Her journals are pretty detailed. They begin with her eighteenth birthday and the suspicions she started forming around then. They end with an entry written just before she was shot.”

Sara rubbed her eyes. “Giving her up was the best thing I did, I know that.”

“But?”

She let out a sad sigh and tugged nervously on the stone around her neck, “She’s still dead, Gil. Whether I had the abortion twenty years ago or she was shot in a parking lot, my daughter is still not a part of this world.” She rolled her eyes, but in a way meant to keep the tears at bay. “It’s like it was never meant to be.”

He frowned and got up, moving to join her on her side of the desk. “Sara, her adoptive family has asked to meet you. Are you okay with that?”

Sara fell silent, staring at his hands and how he held them so still. That was one of the things she loved about him, how he could be so still even in times of utter chaos. His abject devotion to evidence made him a man of passion, yes, and a man whose passions at times got the better of him. But that same devotion to evidence meant that he was able to pause, to remember that the scientific method could apply to all things in life. “Do you have the DNA results?”

“Yes.” Now his hand covered hers. “It’s a clear familial match, Sara.”

“And … her …” she took a breath. “The guy who raped me? Was he in the system?”

“Yes.” Grissom’s tone made her smile a bit. His scientific mind was also not above revenge. “He was arrested for sexual assault five years ago. He’s in prison.”

She sniffed a bit. “Five years ago. You realize he’ll be out again sooner rather than later. If he’d been arrested for drug possession, he’d be serving twenty-five but assault a woman and you’re out in just a couple of years. Better yet, he’ll be a product of the system and full of all this displaced rage and it won’t be all that long before his cycle continues.” She wiped her eyes. “How old was the girl he attacked?”

“Eighteen.”

She took a breath. “Derrick Flemming. I’ll never forget him. I was … in my room. The Flemmings really weren’t bad as far as foster families went. It was kind of crowded but I had my own room and I was smart enough to break into the liquor cabinet without getting caught.” She shook her head. “I was a vodka girl. A couple of shots and it made all the fear go away at night. I could sleep.”

“Was that how it happened?”

Sara shook her head. “No … I was studying for a test. Derrick came into the room and locked the door and just pushed me down. He smelled like car grease and pot and I’ll never forget the bruises he left on my wrists.” She shivered. “I bled all over the sheets. He tore me up really badly and when he was done, he …” she stared down at her thumb and realized she’d worried a piece of skin loose. “He grabbed me by the hair and made me kneel by the bed and told me to wash the sheets and not get caught because if anyone found out, he’d sell me to a buddy of his. I was so scared, Gil.” She wiped her eyes again, but she had to get this out. She’d never told anyone the truth, not all of it. “So I waited until he was gone and then I stripped the bed … I’d bled through the sheets onto the mattress. There were these three little drops that I just stared at for so long … and I didn’t want to wake anyone up so I put the sheets under my bed in the corner and then I changed my underwear and put on a pad to absorb the blood.”

“You didn’t shower?”

“I didn’t want to wake anyone up.” She pulled one knee up and wrapped her arms around it for support.

“Did it happen again?”

Sara nodded. “But it wasn’t all that long after that I was sent back to the shelter. Derrick caught me sneaking the vodka one night and after he blackmailed me, he ratted me out. Rather than get me help, they sent me back. A week later I realized my period was late.”

“Did you tell your social worker?”

“I told a teacher.” She sighed. “I had this physics teacher in school who was my savior. Got me on an honors track, convinced me to get things together. And that was before I was raped. He was my mentor and probably my first crush,” she gave Grissom a bit of a smile. He returned it. “Anyway, I told him and I just begged him not to tell anyone. Derrick was at the same high school. If word got out, he’d have killed me.”

“Sara …”

She recognized the tone in his voice and had to stop the train before it turned into one of pity. Pity was the one thing she just couldn’t handle right now. She got up and went to stand in front of the jar with the irradiated fetal pig. “I felt like this little guy when I was pregnant. Just exposed for the world to see. Everyone coming over, poking at the jar.” She poked at the jar.

Grissom got up and walked over, putting his hands on her waist. The window blinds were open so he couldn’t do much, but the gentle pressure told her everything she needed to know. She turned and touched his cheek and then stepped back. “I survived it, Gil. I’m here. I’m okay.”

“You shouldn’t have had to in the first place.”

“Thank you.” She ran her hands up his arms. “You need to go get some sleep.”

“I’ll sleep when this is solved.”

“No.” She took a breath. “Babe, please. I’m begging you to go get some rest. I need to know that when you catch the bastards who did this to my daughter that nothing has been compromised and that no corners have been cut. I couldn’t be there for her while she was alive, but I’ll be damned if her death goes without justice.”

He stared at her and then his big hand touched her cheek and she leaned into the caress. “Okay,” he replied. “I’ll give Catherine shift and go sleep.” His ran his thumb along her cheekbone. “Do you want to take the night and come home with me?”

He’d read her mind. “Yes.” And she was sure that her vulnerability scared him because he didn’t waste time. Instead, he told her to head home and by the time she’d crawled between the covers of his big bed, she heard him locking the front door. When he came to bed, he held her as tightly as she’d ever been held. In the dark of the room, they both cried.

***

The feel of her knuckles against the wood of Brass’ doorframe made her shiver. He looked up, that fatherly look in his eyes, the one she’d come to cherish over the years, and waved her in. Sara tucked her hands into her pockets and walked all the way into the office, her eyes on the couple in front of her. “Mr. and Mrs. Mair,” Brass was saying, “this is Sara Sidle.”

“Sara …” the woman stood and reached out a hand. “You … Elise looked just like you.”

She gave half a shrug, suddenly unsure what to say to these people. “I am … so sorry.”

“It isn’t your fault.” The woman gathered her into a hug and after an awkward moment where Sara didn’t know what to do with her hands, she finally allowed herself to hug Angela. When she pulled back, Angela stared at her. “She deserved to find you. You deserved to know her.”

“I wish that she had.” Sara gave a soft smile. “I’d have loved that.”

“You did a brave thing, you know. Giving her up.”

Sara took a deep breath. Did she confess or let them believe? “I didn’t have much of a choice, you realize. But I couldn’t have kept her anyway. I was too young and I wanted to go to school. But I am glad she was able to know love. I still don’t know if I could have loved her like she deserved. Every time I looked at her, I’d have been reminded of something I don’t like to be reminded of.”

She could feel Brass staring at her and she appreciated the silent father figure he’d become over the years. She knew enough about Ellie, knew how he blamed himself for her faults, and she knew there was something in her that reminded him of his wayward child. There was something in him that reminded her of her father, the man she’d known before the alcohol took away his kindness. Of all the people she’d talked to over the last day, he was the only one who hadn’t stared at her with some kind of pity in their eyes. His questions weren’t about her, but about the person who had hurt her, who been the instigator of this entire situation. It was fitting that it was him, and not Sofia, supervising this conversation.

“We were told you went to Berkeley too?”

“Yeah,” Sara took a shaky breath, “I uh, got my masters in physics there.”

Angela smiled a bit. “Good for you.” But her eyes were cold. Full of blame. If Elise hadn’t gone looking, she wouldn’t be dead.

Sara shifted awkwardly. “I can’t work Elise’s case, but I know the team who is on it. We’re going to do our best to get her justice and I’ll let you know how things go.” She took a breath, suddenly needing to flee. “I’ll stay in touch.” She watched herself hand over her card and heard herself make excuses about work to do, but she could tell the three people in the office saw through her. Thankfully, no one stopped her. Thankfully, when she arrived back at the lab, Grissom had an assignment for her and she headed out to the empty stretch of road outside of Henderson and spent the night by herself, photographing tire treads and collecting soil samples from around the decomposing bodies. It kept her busy. It kept her from flashing back to the tortured look in Angela Mair’s eyes.

For all the compassionate words that had been uttered in the office, Angela’s accusing look held the most weight. Worse, even if they somehow managed to catch the shooters, it would never change the fact that Elise had been in Vegas, looking for her.

***

Sara was curled up on the couch when he came in the door. She looked up at him; her face was red from crying and in her hand was a small, torn piece of paper. Radiohead was playing. He recognized the style if not the song. He walked over and joined her, breathing a bit easier when she leaned against him. It had been a long few days. “What’s this?” He asked, taking the paper from her hand. It was a well-worn photograph.

“Me.” She wiped her eyes. “The only one I’ve got. That’s all that’s left of that life. A torn photo, a teddy bear, and a blanket.”

He stared at the girl in the photo. She couldn’t have been older than seven, and she was standing on a rock at the edge of the water, hands outstretched, ribbons in her hair. Behind her stood a large house. “Was this the bed and breakfast?”

“Yes.” She sniffed. “Height of its success. It wasn’t too long after this that everything fell apart.”

“How old were you?”

“Seven.” She sighed. “Whole world at my fingertips.”

“It still is, Sara.”

“I know.” She was silent for a long time and he just held her, not knowing what else to say. Her daughter’s killers were still on the loose and she just had to go on living, like nothing had changed for her.

“You’re allowed to mourn for her, Sara.” As the words came out of his mouth he realized he wasn’t sure if he was talking about her daughter or the little girl in the picture who, up to that point in her life, didn’t know any kind of pain. But it didn’t matter because the truth was the same for both girls.

Sara just nodded. “I know,” she said softly. “And you know, I didn’t turn out so badly.”

“No.” He chuckled. “A fantastic education, a good job …”

“A man who is good for me.”

He smiled and kissed the top of her head. “Thank you.”

She sighed and closed her eyes. “Two days ago you were making soup for me.”

“It’s in the freezer.”

“Can we do that for dinner?”

“Yes.”

Sara leaned against him. “Gil, there’s something you should know.”

“What?” What other revelations could he be given this week?

“There’s a chance I can’t ever get pregnant. I … when we got back together and I went on the pill, I had my GYN do a full exam. I’ve had a lot of slipups over the years, including with you, and I haven’t had a pregnancy scare since Elise was born. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay. There’s a lot of scarring. I …” she took a breath. “It isn’t impossible, but it’s a long shot.”

He nodded. “That’s okay, Sara.” And he meant it. Yes, he wanted children. He’d never truly recovered from losing Deserae and the baby. But he wanted Sara more and if having Sara meant giving up biological children, then he’d be okay with that.

“No, it’s not.” Sara sucked in a breath. “The option was taken away from me without my consent.” He ran his fingers through her hair. She sighed. “But it is what it is and when we’re ready to really think about it, we’ll see what happens.”

Haunted by her words, he nodded and kissed her temple. She was right. He hadn’t even thought about it that way. The playlist changed songs. Sara ran her fingers up and down his chest. Outside, Las Vegas settled in for the crush of another day.

_Continued in[Weight](http://vega-voices.livejournal.com/78772.html)_


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